Total pages in book: 247
Estimated words: 248926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1245(@200wpm)___ 996(@250wpm)___ 830(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 248926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1245(@200wpm)___ 996(@250wpm)___ 830(@300wpm)
“What part messed you up?”
“All of it, man.”
Lunita killed their mother. I would have to tell Emily.
Is that why she didn’t have a memory of her mother? Was it pain and guilt that made her block it all away?
I lit the joint and handed him back the lighter.
How do I tell her. . .everything?
Together, in silence, we smoked and looked at the moon. There was nothing else to do, but calm our hurts and try to figure out the next step to healing. The marijuana had a soothing effect that numbed all my senses, and I welcomed it. The pain in my chest went away. I hoped it would never return.
Should I see. . .Dr. Stovall about this?
Another cool breeze blew by us.
The same jazz song continued. It must have been a pretty long length. Then, out of nowhere the musicians began chanting the same phrase over the steady rhythm.
I quirked my brows. “What are they saying?”
“A love supreme.”
“Is that the name of the song?”
Maxwell nodded.
I flicked ash over the railing. “Then, this song is about love?”
“Yeah, but not a love for a woman.”
“Then, the love for what?”
“Love for God.” Maxwell took a hit and then blew out smoke. “Coltrane struggled with drug and alcohol addiction.”
I inhaled my own joint, understanding finally how someone could choose drugs to escape. It was a quick fix to numb the pain and somehow cope with the tragedy of a day. The only problem was that the logical side of me knew that the marijuana was just a band aid.
I blew out smoke and watched it disappear into the night.
“The notes mirror Coltrane’s quest in getting free of that shit.” Maxwell stared at the stars. “X told me that this song was a spiritual declaration that Coltrane’s musical devotion was now intertwined with his faith in God.”
“You played this before.”
“I did.”
I looked at him. “And why do you play this song, when you take care of Emily?”
“Because X loved Coltrane. He used to play his albums over and over on Saturday, cleaning the house and shit. Then. . .later. . .when Emily had her episodes. . .he would play it then. It was the only thing that kept her still. So. . .when I hear Coltrane, I'm more relaxed than when I smoke weed.”
“And this music relaxes Emily and Lunita too.”
“Yeah.”
I thought back to Xavier. We had barely exchanged many words before Sasha's men killed him along with my Uncle Igor. Now, I wished I had picked his brain more about Emily. But back then, I thought I knew everything there was to know about her.
I gazed at the half-full moon. “Xavier gave Emily and you a strong foundation after the horrors that occurred.”
“I guess. I damn sure would have been worse off without him.” Maxwell sighed. “Man. . .if X were here. . .shit would be better. Everything would be wrapped up like a tight bow.”
I looked at him. “Would it?”
“Yeah.”
“I do not know about that.”
“Man, X would have known what to do.”
I focused on my joint, placed it to my lips, and inhaled.
Hmm. So much better. I will need to be mindful of how much I use this to stay calm.
Maxwell took me out of my thoughts. “You don't think X could have helped us right now?”
I exhaled smoke. “When I arrived in New York, the city feared the Tinder Killer. It was pure terror in the streets and all over the papers. People were in restaurants whispering about it in fear that they might be the next victim. The police had begun a manhunt. Emily would have been caught.”
“Well. . .maybe X didn't have shit completely wrapped up, but. . .at least. . .Lunita would not have been talking and having a breakdown this evening.”
“Perhaps, that is the problem.”
“How's that?”
“Lunita should talk more and let it out. Maybe that will be how Emily heals.”
“Yeah, but everything Lunita said. . .” Maxwell stared off at the stars. “Everything she said. . .it broke my heart, man. Made me want to kill somebody. I don’t like feeling that way.”
“Sometimes healing can be ugly.”
“Then, we're definitely healing because this shit is as ugly as it gets.” He stopped looking at the night's sky and frowned at me. “By the way, do you understand the plan for tomorrow?”
“What plan?”
“Anya is going to do Em's hair perfectly. No cornrows or anything. Nice and blowed-out just right.”
I twisted my face in confusion. “And?”
“Then, Em will never know that she went dark tonight. Bodies gone. Everyone keeps their mouths shut.”
I scowled at him.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Maxwell, I am not lying—”
“Are you fucking serious?”
“No secrets.”
Maxwell blew out a long breath. “I should fucking throw you off this balcony.”
For some reason, that made me smirk. I inhaled some of the joint.
Maxwell leaned against the railing. “Kazimir.”
“Yes?”
He looked at me. “I don't want Em to have to dig deep into this muck and—”